


there's some horrors in this house

by abillabee



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28682499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abillabee/pseuds/abillabee
Summary: God has let me live another day, and I am about to make it everyone's problemAny resemblance to real-life events or persons living or dead is purely coincidental
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Reader/Tucker Ghost
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Born of a Public Ivy education
> 
> TW home of phobia (casual) (it's funny) and suicide mention

"[Y/N,] are you listening?"

You turned to your friend Stephanie. Admittedly, you had not been, with your focus instead fixated on the building that housed the English, Linguistics, and Medieval & Renaissance Studies departments. It was a beautiful autumnal morning on the William & Mary campus, and yet a shiver ran down your spine at the sight of Tucker Hall.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. What's happening?"

Stephanie rolled her eyes. "I said that I got a Ouija board from the campus bookstore, and I'm thinking we could take it to Tucker tonight. Full moon and all."

"What's special about a full moon? Or Tucker, for that matter?" 

"You've never heard of the Tucker ghost? The girl that killed herself?"

As you and Stephanie approached the Campus Center, you nearly ran into the door frame at her cheerful talk of suicide.

"Excuse me?"

"Legend has it," continued Stephanie, grateful to finally have an attentive audience, "that during finals season years and years ago, a girl was so stressed that she killed herself in the bathroom on the second floor of Tucker Hall."

"Holy shit. That's so sad." You took a seat outside the entrance to Marketplace. "I feel like we as a community should really have a conversation about the kind of stress culture that lends itself to an environment where not only would a student take her own life in response to overwhelming academic pressure, but that such an choice would be so widely understood by the bulk of the student body that it could become an outright—"

"Yeah, totally. So I think we should summon her ghost so that you can get laid."

You blink in response. "There's a lot to unpack here."

"I mean, have you gotten any since we got to campus? It's almost the end of the semester."

"How did you know—I didn't tell you I was gay, first off?"

"Well—" Stephanie frantically gesticulated at your Doc Martins, cuffed jeans, and novelty earrings. [A/N: It's up to the reader's imagination what they look like, but I'm thinking strawberries.]

"Okay, you're right, but you shouldn't say it. That's besides the point—why would I want to fuck the Tucker—how do you even know she was—what are the logistics here?"

"To answer what I think were your questions in a rough chronological order, beggars can't be choosers, it's William & Mary, so I'm playing the odds here, and I'm thinking you just let her, uh, Poltergeist your pussy," Stephanie offered, lowering her voice.

You were shocked at Stephanie's lewd proposal. And yet ... every day that semester, passing by the Tucker building, when that familiar chill set in to your body at the mere sight of the haunted locale, was it truly just horror that animated your spirit? Or was it something else? A kind of longing?

You looked down at the floor. Was it possible that the kind of companionship you yearned for could only be found in the liminal space between the living and the dead, of what is and what once was? 

You looked back up at Stephanie, resolute. "Okay. Let's do this."

Stephanie grinned. "We'll meet outside at 9 tonight."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strap in, folks
> 
> TW home of phobia (casual) (it's not funny)

To say you had cold feet as you watched the moon rise outside Tucker would be an understatement, not least because it had been raining earlier in the day and you were tragically unfamiliar with suitable inclement weather footwear. You shuffled uncomfortably. Stephanie was nowhere to be seen. Was this some kind of prank? Did she just want you to admit that you were so horny on main that you would be willing to summon a malevolent spirit to rail you into the fifth dimension?

Well, if so, the joke was on her. Somewhere between your conversation at Marketplace and showing up at Tucker tonight, you had realized that shame was simply a response one could choose to have, and ultimately a product of internalized homophobia, like frat culture.

“Boo!”

You nearly jumped out of your skin. Stephanie laughed, rattling the Oujia board in your face.

“Are you ready?” She smirked.

Trying to disguise your rattled nerves, you said “Doesn’t a Oujia board require two sets of hands on it at all time when in use?”

“Oh, someone’s been doing their research! Worried about catching an STD? A Spiritually–”

“A Spiritually Transmitted Disease, yeah, I get it, you’re so fucking funny.” At that, you snatched the box out of her hands. “Are you planning to watch the whole time, then?”

Stephanie squinted at you. “That’s kind of gay, bitch, don’t you think? No, I’m going to help you summon her, and then I’ll just … politely excuse myself.”

“Excuse yourself? From communing with the other side?”

“I have midterms to cram for anyway. Parapsychology isn’t in any of the study guides, you know?”

“Fair enough.”

~

It was approaching midnight when you and Stephanie finally settled on the second floor of Tucker Hall. Stephanie had somehow brought in a candelabras worth of flammables, and was gingerly arranging them around the board.

“Is this just for the aesthetic or are the candles supposed to protect us somehow?”

“Well,” Stephanie started, standing up and brushing off the knees of her leggings, “I’m thinking that there’s no accounting for the Tucker Ghost’s particular … tastes, and that it would be nice to give her a variety of implements with which to play.”

“If you think I’m letting a ghost use a candle on me–”

“I’m sorry, but you’re already asking a ghost to abuse your cat in a way that would make PETA blush, so I didn’t think a bit of wax was out of the question, no.” Stephanie crossed her arms.

You crossed yours. Then, with an exasperated sigh, you threw your hands up in the air. “Whatever. Is that what the … other noodle implement in your messenger bag is for?”

“What?” You could see but a hint of a purple dildo poking out of Stephanie’s bag. “Oh, no, I’m meeting up with Brandon after this.”

“I thought you said you said you had to study for midterms!”

“And I am! With Brandon. A bitch just likes to be prepared for any eventuality. You know I’m a Virgo.”

“And you know that I have no clue what that has to do with anything.”

Stephanie huffed. “Do you want to just set up the board?”

“Yeah, okay.”

~

For all your bickering, both you and Stephanie found yourselves without words after setting down the planchette and sitting on opposite sides of the board. Whatever Stephanie’s intentions were with the candles, they did contribute to an unearthly atmosphere, especially as the pale glow of the moon could be seen from the windows nearby. 

Stephanie, devoid of her usual sorority girl bluster, began. “We invite she who haunts Tucker Hall to communicate with us today. We mean no harm, and wish only to solicit a simple favor.”

“Is that what the kids call it these days?” you whispered in an attempt to cut the tension, which was at this point thicker than Cardi B in that one outfit in the music video for WAP. (You know the one?) Stephanie did not respond, her eyes glued to the board.

You looked down as well. With no conscious effort on your part, the planchette was ever so slowly inching towards what seemed like the letter W.

Seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity. “W….H….A….T.” Stephanie spelled out.

“Um,” you start. “Um.”

“You have to be the one to ask,” Stephanie stated helpfully. “It’s your body.”

“I mean, should I flirt with her? I feel kind of predatory, to be honest–”

“Shut up, shut up–” Stephanie interrupted. The planchette was moving once more, slightly faster this time.

“R….U….G….A….Y,” you whispered in awe. “Was it not obvious?” You say, frantically gesticulating towards your Doc Martins, cuffed jeans, and novelty earrings. 

“Don’t take your hands off the–” Stephanie began, but it’s too late. All at once, the floor rushed up to meet your head, and you blacked out completely.

~

You woke up with a start. You were still in Tucker, obviously. Or were you? Several changes had occured. For starters, the whole room, or perhaps your field of vision, seemed strangely cold, as if someone had turned down the saturation on Photoshop by just a few points. Additionally, Stephanie, the board, and your clothes had vanished.

It was this last one that was of most concern to you, considering you were now shivering cold in a school building wearing nothing but your bra and underwear. You were just making to stand up and search for your flannel when an unseen force pushed you back down to the floor.

“I–”

“Hi.” Unseen, that is, until you turned your head. On top you was maybe the most beautiful girl you had even seen in your pathetically short gay life. As if back-lit by the moon herself, her sharp angular features sat in stark contrast to the soft, even tender expression in her eyes. Her auburn hair sat piled on top her shoulders like a sudden flare of sunlight, the only source of color in the strange dimension you had found yourself in.

“Sorry, is this too much? You just kind of seem like a bottom, so I thought you might be into it.”

“Wait,” you said. “Just give me a second.”

“Yeah, totally, of course.” She leans back, revealing that she, too, has very little on.

“You’re, like, really pretty. I’m just so confused right now.”

“Oh my gosh, no, you’re literally so pretty!” She exclaims. After a beat, she continues. “But, like, yeah, you and your friend summoned me, and I might have got a bit, uh, overexcited.” She looks at nothing in particular while touching her pointer fingers together, a sheepish expression on her face. “But it seemed like you might want to, like, I don’t know …” She makes eye contact with you once more. You thought you might die, if you hadn’t already. The jury was still out on that.

“Oh, no, yeah, I’d love to! I don’t know, I’m just kind of …” You start laughing nervously. “It’s kind of hard to …” You continued laughing, a little panicked now, trying desperately not to let your gaze fall on the swell of the Tucker Ghost’s breasts, which were especially prominent in her new angle.

Unfortunately, she sensed your dilemma. “You can touch, if you want.”

“I–what?”

She leaned in closely. You could feel the chill of her breath on your face, study the freckles that dotted the bridge of her nose. Every cell in your body tensed, waiting.

In the end, you kissed her. She opened for you much like the way you would imagine that of a flower at the beginning of spring, warm and inviting. For someone who was dead, her mouth on yours made you feel more alive than you had maybe ever felt before. You moaned, and she responded likewise.

After what felt like forever, the Tucker Ghost eventually peeled her lips off yours. You almost couldn’t hear what she said for the blood rushing in your ears, or your own breath as you tried desperately to hang on.

“[Y/N],” she began. “[Y/N].”

“Yes, yes, yes.” you said. “Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied part 3 will have sex
> 
> I'm going to go pray now or something


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> addison cain doesn't have shit on me
> 
> anyways, you were dreadfully soaked.

Breath hitched (a curious phenomenon, as you weren't aware of a ghost's need to breathe), the Tucker Ghost moved down your body, caressing your sides, then your thighs, until her face was positioned just below your waistline.

"Oh, fuck." she whispered. She had noticed.

You were nearly as surprised as she was. Having been preoccupied with your fear, you had failed to notice just how aroused you were becoming as well. But you were here now. And with the way she looked back up at you, storm cloud, or perhaps moderately intense rain-shower grey eyes meeting your own, it was clear that your desire was matched, if not surpassed.

"You are so fucking hot," the ghost said. "And I'm not just saying that because your have blood circulation and a pulse."

"You're ... ethereal," you offered in turn. "And I'm not saying that just because you are quite literally insubstantial."

She simply hummed as she lowered her lips to your underwear, slender fingers gingerly pulling aside the fabric covering your glistening cunt.

"I don't know if I should let you have this this easily," she said, murmuring, lifting her other hand and using her thumb to rub small, slow circles on the top of your opening. 

You almost immediately began to buck, but again, that unseen force was holding you down. As she had multiple limbs, whatever control she had over the strange realm in which you had found yourself meant that you would not be moving a muscle unless the ghost permitted it.

“I mean, you’re so wet already. You’re a bit of a slut, huh?” She continued, her thumb and index finger thoroughly massaging your clit.

“I wouldn’t–” you bit down a moan, as you felt such a noise would be counterproductive to the argument you were attempting to make. Such efforts quickly became futile as her fingers slid further down.

“That’s fine,” she said, smiling up at you, almost innocently. “I’ll still take care of you.”

Eloquently, you answered with “Shit,” and let your head roll back.

Thankfully, the Tucker Ghost was done with degrading you, as she instead put her tongue to work where her hand had been just a moment prior, simultaneously plunging into you again and again, deeper each time, while tenderly caressing your nub to the point where it was almost, if not quite, painful to the touch.

You still couldn’t move much, but your fingers scrabbled at the floor, desperate for something to hold on to. You could feel the core of your being ache, tighten, hopelessly taut.

The ghost twisted her fingers in such a way where you felt completely stretched out, totally open to her amusement. Amuse herself she did, as she continued fingerfucking you with ease, still with a smile playing on her mouth. “Say that you’re mine.” 

“Do you understand?” she added. You were almost completely gone, and could hardly parse what she was saying. She began to slow down. You whimpered.

“[Y/N]. I said, say that you’re mine.”

Fighting through the fog of pleasure that had long since descended on your mind, you comply. “I’m…yours.”

“I know.” There was something of the devil in her voice as she re-doubled her efforts, moving her fingers in a rough scissor motion inside you.

You bit down so hard that you could taste blood on the inside of your lip. It was all too much, and yet not enough. If you could just move your legs…

With Herculean effort, you pushed against what felt like cinderblocks strapped to your limbs to shift your right foot. All at once, whatever force that was keeping you pinned down–perhaps it was the Tucker Ghost’s surprise you were able to move at all–disappeared. In shock, your hand flew from your side and knocked over one of the candles Stephanie had so deliberately placed.

The scene changed in an instant. As your climax rippled through your body, the floor began to catch fire, the Tucker Ghost seemingly evaporated, and the dream-like dimension you had been in gave way to the florescent lit reality. It was all you could do to gather your things (Stephanie’s bag was nowhere to be seen) and run.

As you rushed down the stairwell and out the nearest door, fire licking at your heels and post-nut clarity drying on your thighs as the 100-year-old academic building went up in flames, you couldn't help but wonder if such an event meant that whatever tie the Tucker Ghost had to the mortal plane was gone, meaning she could finally rest.

You felt ambivalent about this. On one hand, helping a spirit get their eternal rest was pretty lit, but the chance that you two could hook up again were from slim to none. You were no stranger to yearning, being gay, but this might be bit much, all things considered. 

~ Fin ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shit you got girlbossed
> 
> much love to the breadstick gays and their steamed associates
> 
> i'm sorry


End file.
